


Maybe this world is another planet's Hell

by ghostrunner



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-13
Updated: 2007-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrunner/pseuds/ghostrunner





	Maybe this world is another planet's Hell

In time, when you feel that you've lived beyond your endurance, you become fascinated with sensation. Over the dragging centuries wine and women and even drugs lose their savor and you find yourself longing, _longing_ in a white hot way for the chance to feel something other than the creeping passage of time.

Adam really wishes he knew any other immortals on which to test this theory.

Pain never loses its bite. The impact is never lessened. The body can become dull to pain, but only if it becomes a continuous sensation. Given time to heal you can feel pain again. And again.

After four hundred years of experience and excess, it's all you can feel.

All of this is meant to serve as an explanation for why Adam has so foolishly allowed this slip of a psychopathic spark plug anywhere near him. The lure of sensation is strong and manipulation is to him like breathing is to most mammals. And she wants it.

She is, she tells him, eighteen today.

“How nice for you,” he says, leaning back as she throws one leg across his waist and straddles his hips. “What year is it? Two-thousand one? I’m three hundred and sixty.”

“Is that so?” she hums in her little girl voice. She slips her fingers under his shirt and digs her nails into his hipbones. Leans down and blows across his skin. “You’ve held up pretty well.”

He almost smiles at that, but then she slides her hands up his chest, giggling as his muscles contract and twitch at her touch.

“I could do anything to you,” she purrs, dragging her hands back down. The little hairs on his body stand up. Static gathering before a lightning strike and it’s as much the anticipation that makes him gasp as the way she rocks her hips against his.

“You could take it.” She shocks him. Hard. He cries out and arches beneath her, twisting and shaking. _This_ is it. What he’s looking for. Pure sensory overload.

“I can take it,” he says when she takes her hands away, laughing in delight. His voice is ragged and cracked and he doesn’t care because she can break him all she likes. All he likes.

He won’t stay broken.

“I can take it,” and his voice is already stronger. She licks a line from bellybutton to the hollow of his throat. Raises her head and smiles at him like the wicked child she is.

“You will,” she promises.

 _fin_


End file.
